


and still i dreamed he'll come to me

by choncena



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Kinda, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Original Character(s), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel Fix-It, denial of canon is the best feeling, towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 09:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19999432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choncena/pseuds/choncena
Summary: six stones to put back, six lessons to learn.or the fic in which steve is guided towards the happy ending he's always wanted.





	and still i dreamed he'll come to me

**Author's Note:**

> it's finally done! i've been working on this since april when endgame came out because just.... no... so i've lived in denial ever since and i couldn't really figure out a way to write certain parts of this but she's here, and she's unbeta'd but she's done. 
> 
> **and a note of clarity:** it's a bit confusing because this really isn't about steve _returning_ the stones but rather the lessons he gets _through_ it and even then he's not really returning the stones to the canon points of where they should be. if anything, the stones in itself have nothing to do with steve's little adventure of self-discovery.

_and still i dreamed he'll come to me_

_that we will live the years together_

_but there are dreams that cannot be_

_and there are storms we cannot weather_

> _-i dreamed a dream from "les misérables"_

∞

**REALITY**

He doesn’t know why he volunteered to return the stones. Maybe it was because he’s willing to do it as a team leader, or maybe it was because he couldn’t handle accepting that Tony—

He suits up. 

Bruce is working on the portal just outside the cabin near the lake but not  _ that _ part of it, Sam and Bucky keeping him company. It’s barely been a week but Steve knows he needs to do this now rather than later or else he never will. 

He has to move on eventually. They all do. 

But he can’t. 

He can still see the light wink out from the reactor  _ (one so similar from the one Tony had placed in his hand years ago in aggression because Steve had  _ hurt  _ him and there’s some obvious fucked up symbolism there but everything is numb, numb, numb—)  _ and the exact moment Tony’s last breath leaves him as his hand on top of Pepper’s falls. He can still see the boy from Queens—  _ Peter, _ he reminds himself  _ (I lost the kid)—  _ whispering  _ his _ apologies to Tony in the way Steve could never have done  _ (didn’t) _ and how this young boy who had five years of his life taken from him had fallen apart for the father figure that had given those years back to him.

He had knelt in a collapsed heave, the regrets and sorrows and unspoken words heavy on his shoulders. He watched as Thor bowed with silent tears, how Rhodes turned away from the widow mourning her husband with the  _ kid _ by her side, how even  _ Bucky _ stared at the ground with anguish and regret on his face. But Steve didn’t cry. Not properly. 

He broke and gasped in a breath but he didn’t cry, not in the way he did for Natasha.

Not because he didn’t have anything in him to, but because he simply  _ couldn’t _ . Not for Tony, not yet. 

Steve is torn and bent, weary from the fighting, and he owes to it Tony to hold off his proper grievances until the mission is done.

_ “How long is it gonna take?” _ Sam had asked Bruce when Steve had stepped onto the portal, knowingly leaving his heart behind with the people he had given it to.

_ “For him, as long as he needs. For us, five seconds _ ,” Bruce had answered. 

_ Reality is so often disappointing _ , Thanos had told them. Steve hadn’t believed him then but by god, how he wished he still didn’t.

Tony was  _ dead _ in this reality. There were still so many things Steve had wanted to tell him, had wanted to tell him that he was sorry  _ (because even though Tony had forgiven him when he gave back the shield, he knew it still wasn’t enough; Steve had  _ abandoned _ him and one measly handshake wasn’t enough to cut it because they were at war and war spared no time for apologies),  _ that Tony and the Avengers were the reason Steve had finally considered the 21st century  _ home _ , but what was home without the people that made it so?

Home, now, was nothing but pitiful faces and another set of ghosts for him to see at every corner he turned. Home was for those with families who were separated by the decimation and home was for those who never knew of what happened, because they truly will never know. 

They will never know how Tony had looked at Steve and asked  _ do you trust me _ and Steve didn’t even hesitate to reply  _ I do _ ; they will never know the feeling that ran warm in Steve’s blood that first night of brainstorming where to locate the infinity stones that was from being surrounded by the people he loved to distract him from the battles raging outside their own door; they will never know the stuttering cries of a broken boy saying  _ we won _ in a completely different tone than Steve had 11 years ago or the shattering mumbles of a widow thinking of her bright daughter  _ (that Steve hadn’t even gotten the chance to meet properly despite it being five years) _ as she tells the man she’s dedicated 15 years and promised forevermore of her life to  _ we’ll be okay, you can rest now;  _ they will never know the way Steve had nearly strung himself high with tension as he watched that wreath float down the small waves of water and away from them, from  _ him _ , as a final testament.

They will never know how Steve had carried him out of the armor and away from the rubble only to lay him down on a strip of grass so paramedics could lay a cloth on his body. They will never know how it was  _ him _ who had to reach over with his hands and close those now-soulless brown eyes.

Steve wishes he were them.

_ Resentment is corrosive _ , Tony had told him, but he never told Steve how it felt to feel the resentment towards himself; resentment for not being able to say the words he’s wanted to say since after Ultron, resentment for not being able to approach him as a friend in the five years between the decimation and the undoing, resentment for not being brave enough to put down the mantle and be selfish for once.

There was resentment there, too, for never being able to say  _ I love you, I’ve loved you since New York, I’ve loved you and admired you even when we fought, and I still do, it wasn’t worth it. _

Tony was happy, in those five years with Pepper and Morgan, and Steve holds resentment for himself because he  _ promised _ , he  _ made a deal _ with the man in the big suit of armor that this fight was for Tony to be able to keep what he found  _ (at all costs) _ , but there he wasn’t. 

Reality is Steve holding onto that briefcase with all six stones while the family of the man who loved freely and gave too much mourned inside the home he so willingly built to shelter the life he had fought for.

Reality is Steve stepping on that platform with a sorrowful smile as he looks at the friends he knows he’s leaving behind.

_ We need you, Cap _ , says a voice at the back of his head in the same inflection when it was said seven years ago.

_ No,  _ he thinks looking at Sam and Bucky with a smile,  _ not anymore _ .

He presses the watch on his hand the same time Bruce activates the platform and with a flash of red, he’s swallowed by the emptiness and silence of the quantum realm that relates too closely to the one in his chest.

∞

**POWER**

He floats and all he sees is purple, purple,  _ purple _ . There’s a crushing weight pushing against his own body but there’s no one here but him. 

He’s stuck in a limbo, passing images in front of his vision but not exactly tangible like he’d hope it’d be. The power stone is in his hand, wrapping its burning tendrils of energy around his limbs and coursing smooth and achy in his own veins.

Everything is numb.

He can’t feel the heavy force of the infinity stone’s cosmic aura suffocating him the way it would a normal human  _ (but then again, he wasn’t exactly  _ not _ not human, and Tony wasn’t either and yet, he managed to withstand the power of all the stones at once, just once) _ , or the way the threads of the universe encased in this tiny stone are forming out and away from him to embrace another distant shadow in front of him.

This place— some absolutely  _ fucked up _ version of that barrack he stayed in at Camp Lehigh— is crumbling around him, shades of black and purple crashing against an invisible force and everything warps around him. 

He raises his arm to shield against the flashes coming at him and closes his eyes and he wants to  _ run run run _ —

“Hello, Steven.”

Steve drops his arm and gapes his mouth in shock at the figure in front of him, undead and very much the same as when he first saw him die in his arms.

“Dr. Erskine?” Steve whispers in disbelief. The good doctor smiles ruefully. 

“I did not expect to see you so soon.”

Steve blinks. “I’m not dead, am I?”

Erskine shakes his head and chuckles, and looks back up and straight at something past Steve but Steve doesn’t turn to see what exactly.

“The gems have their own in-between worlds, so no, you’re not dead.”

Steve nods, his throat closing in on itself. He looks at the doctor and thinks of the life he’s lived so long ago, seemingly unreal now. 

“Why me?”

Erskine tilts his head, raises an eyebrow above the lens of his glasses as he keeps his eyes on Steve, almost as if he was examining him.

“You were the most true of heart of any of the soldiers, the first to pass any of the tests with as much success as needed.”

_ The first _ , never meant to be the last. 

They wanted more super soldiers, that was their plan; there was supposed to be an army of them. He was always meant to have brothers and sisters in the senses of the word, but in their places, all he got were ghosts and the whispers of failure and regret.

_ I wanted an army, but all I got was  _ you _. _

He was never meant to be a symbol, a figure; he was only ever meant to be a good soldier, a frontman. His intention was never to be special or to have the abilities of a superhuman because he  _ wasn’t supposed to be alone _ . That was never their intention.

He was never  _ made _ to be alone.

But that seems to be Steve’s thing nowadays— being alone.

He had the Avengers  _ (but without Tony, does he really even now?) _ , Sam, Bucky, Natasha, but now Natasha’s gone too and Sam and Bucky now have each other and it feels like he’s back in Phase One all over again. 

Man out of time, they called him, but he’s adapted to the future and that was partly due to the Avengers but they’re broken, more lost than ever. There’s hope with the new members, but Steve… He’s lost once again.

The war is over, he’s worn-down and who would want someone as wounded and broken as he as team leader? They all have their scars, he gets that, but he himself wants to  _ not _ have to be the one every one’s depending on for once.

He knows he can pass down the mantle to Sam, trusts him to handle it, maybe even be a better Captain America than he ever was, but he doesn’t know what to do. 

Retire? Steve knows he can never quite do that; he was never one to simply give up the fighting, because who is he, the super soldier, without a war to fight? He wishes it wasn’t that way but he can’t just settle down and let the world turn unguarded. 

He wants to believe that his place was outside the boundaries of camaraderie shared over spilt blood and busted knuckles, wants to believe that he could find his footing within peace and the passing-bys of life after war.

He’s stubborn and strong-willed and passionate, but he’s also too kind and forgiving. It’s a flaw, he thinks, to think the best in people even when they didn’t deserve it. So honest and faithful in the redeeming qualities of everyone he met, always thinking of their values over their looks because he’s never once been able to have been treated the same before the serum. Growing up, it was always a judgement on how scrawny and sickly he was over the merits of his own mind, and understanding how it felt, he’s never once wanted someone he knew to ever feel the same. 

He guesses it’s his own blind trust in people that’s led to this. 

It was easier, when his whole team was right behind him. It was easier when they knew they had certain roles to play and certain goals to achieve, even when half the plays had to fly improvised, but in the end, they always made it because they did it together, the way Steve had promised Tony once upon a time and how he broke that promised more times than he should’ve. 

Power, strength, honor— what was it all without trust to share it with? What was leadership without trust from your own followers? What was  _ Steve _ without the Avengers?

Alone. 

But who is he when he isn’t?

_ A coward, a fool— _

“A good man.”

Steve stutters in a breath, the energy of the remaining stones ringing in his ears. The older man nods, as if he understands the dilemma swirling around, and he steps closer so Steve can see the way the doctor’s features are the same as he last saw them: thoughtful and so steadfast in his commitment to making sure Steve was seen as the best choice for the experiment. 

Steve doubts it now.

Erskine presses his finger against Steve’s heart in the same manner as he did decades ago.

“You are not a perfect soldier,” the doctor says with the same lilt in his voice as when he said the words the first time, “but a good man.”

Steve chuckles wetly, watching as this limbo he’s stuck in starts to crumble around him. 

_ Time’s up. _

Steve thinks of the Avengers—  _ this family—  _ and the way he left them in the midst of mourning Tony, thinks of the way he gave up in those five years after the decimation, of  _ Tony _ and Bucky and Siberia—

“I don’t know if I am anymore, Dr. Erskine.”

Erskine shakes his head. “Having power is making mistakes. You were not once intended to shoulder your burdens in this way. It is time for you to not be alone, Steven. You’ve been for far too long now.”

∞

**SPACE**

When Steve comes to, he’s faced with a familiar backside in a dingy room, the only source of light emanating from the glowing blue stone he holds in his hands and the cradle the man in front of him is sitting next to.

“Hello?” Steve says into the dark, hoping for a reaction.

The reaction he gets isn’t exactly the one he was hoping for.

The body swivels its head and Steve is face to face with himself, the blue from the cradle illuminating the differences between him and  _ this _ Steve.

“Was wonderin’ when another me would turn up,” this Steve— Rogers, Steve decides to dub him— says with a dark chuckle that’s not necessarily comforting. 

Steve steps closer and when he does, he can finally note the difference between Rogers and him: Rogers is years older— though not by much— just telling from the wrinkles and frown lines on his face and he’s more unkempt with the scruffiness of the stubble growing on his chin and cheeks and the way his hair is longer and wild. There’s a certain tensity in Rogers’ body that Steve has never managed to accomplish himself and he’s curious as to what this version of him has seen, has been through. 

Steve steps closer and he understands at least a little bit because that’s another version of  _ Tony _ in the cradle.

_ No, not his,  _ his mind supplies, but is there really any difference?

“What—” Steve starts but Rogers beats him to it.

“He died a martyr.” Rogers turns away from him, resting his elbows against his spread knees, his brows set in a permanent furrow. “Couldn’t stop him this time.”

Steve swallows, thinks of his own Tony. Rogers keeps talking.

“You’d think that after knowing the guy for more than 10 years that you’d finally understand why he does what he does, but if anything, it never gets easier. Guess that’s what I admired him for.”

At Rogers’ words, Steve suddenly goes back to that first day on the Helicarrier and the viciousness behind the spitting words Steve had said to his Tony and back and how, after, Steve had rested his own palm against the arc reactor when the brunet had come down from the wormhole. The flashing panic, the bite of concern— those were the emotions Steve had felt that day and even years later, after countless proof of Tony cutting the wire, Steve had always admired him.

Headstrong, and stubborn in the same ways Steve was, it was a constant tug and push between him and genius, and he thinks of how  _ good _ they were, but at the same time, how bad they were for each other. 

Under normal circumstances, and away from the influence of the scepter, Steve thinks their initial meeting might’ve gone a bit more placidly, but that was just another thing Steve could never wish for.

“Why is he in… that?” Steve asks. 

“There might be a chance he might still be alive,” Rogers answers easily, but his words are strained, “No one ever stays dead here, not really.”

A few moments of unspoken tension passes before Rogers turns to him, blue eyes dark and  _ so unattached _ that it frightens him. “Why are you here, kid?”

The nickname grates on Steve’s nerves. “I’m returning the stones.”

Rogers scoffs. “You’re better off destroying them. They’re of no good use to anybody.”

Steve is skeptical. “You’re not exactly—”

“Listen here, soldier, you might be me, but you’re never going to  _ be _ me.” Rogers throws his head back and laughs, dark and self-deprecating. “The things I have seen and been through is larger than anything you’ve ever done. There’s still so much for you to learn.”

Steve clenches his fist, jaw clenching as his counterpart turns his side to him once again. “I think I’ve been through enough.”

Rogers smirks at him mockingly. “Have you?” He nods towards the glowing blue stone in Steve’s hand. “That stone there was used on me by HYDRA to turn me into their own puppet.”

He keeps his steely eyes on Steve’s. “I’ve crashed empires, murdered millions,  _ killed _ Avengers, all while keeping the memories and thoughts of who I was before, and you know what I saw?  _ Everything _ . I  _ remember _ everything. And I know who I was, and I know who you are.”

Steve stays still, unbelieving. “And who am I?”

Rogers stays silent for a while, keeps his attention on the still body in the metal encasing in front of him. 

“You’re naive, waiting for the end of a war that’ll never arrive. Because that’s the thing isn’t it? Peace. You’re looking for it,  _ searching _ , for it, but truth is, you just can’t admit that you don’t know where you would be without it.” 

Rogers stands up from his perch and rests his hand upon the glass of the cradle. “The man out of time, looking for a place to belong. Young, still learning, universes away from his family.”

Standing, Rogers towers over him, looking almost  _ feral, _ and Steve finally gets it.

Rogers is a man who’s seen both sides of the war and each devastating aftermath of it. He’s seen dystopias and empires crumble underneath his own feet in a way that Steve never has. Rogers is a man who’s lived too long in the future, who’s set his foot down in it, and embraced it only for it to continue to displease him. He’s loved in this time, warped the era into his own only for his own ambitions to conflict against what he really wants. Rogers is a man who’s lost  _ everything _ but he keeps on fighting, even when the outcome always turns out the same.

Steve swears right there and then that he will never become him.

“You want to be done with it, but you can’t,” Rogers continues, “You’re never going to be finished. There will always be the next battle after the next and there’s nothing you can do but wait to fight.”

“Did Tony tell you that?” Steve deadpans.

The corners of Rogers’ lips turn up, but it’s not a good thing. “He never had to say it.  _ This _ was enough.”

The cold that seeps in Steve’s body is unwanted and unexpected and it’s like being put back under the sheets of ice that catapulted him 70 years into the future.

“We’ve been best friends for decades now, yaknow. We had the others, but it was always him and I.” Rogers shakes his head. “Even when we fought, I loved him. And even then, I admired him.”

The breath that leaves Steve’s lips is cold and he can’t help but to think of Siberia.

“Nothing was ever easy with him, but he didn’t take my shit. Gave me a place to belong, a home, and what do I repay him with? Shitty last words and a legacy full of destruction.”

The detachment Steve feels between him and Rogers runs deep, but Steve can’t help but think of his own legacy in  _ his _ universe— a teammate dead and Steve’s unspoken apologies buried with him.

The line where Steve ends and Rogers starts begin to get blurrier with every passing moment that Rogers speaks.

“I lose him, I always do, but he always comes back. It doesn’t really matter, though. It still hurts the same and it never stops hurting.” Rogers takes a breath before he steps away from Tony’s frozen body and pivots his heel so he’s nearly chest to chest with Steve. 

The blue eyes that mirror his own are stormy and indifferent but behind it, there’s a sadness that Steve can’t really pinpoint, can’t quite understand.

“You take that stone,” Rogers says, “And you hide it far,  _ far _ away, where no one, and I mean  _ absolutely no one _ , will be able to find it because I promise you, it’s not going to be worth it.” The man sighs. “Nothing ever is.”

∞

**MIND**

When Steve opens his eyes against the brightness this time, he nearly faints at the figure standing only a few feet away from him.

“Ma?” he whispers against the air he’s choking on, feeling like he’s nothing but a child again, small and sickly.

Sarah Rogers, with her long blonde hair and soft eyes, smiles  _ up _ at him and the tears in her eyes mirror his. 

“Hello, Steven.” 

He runs to her and collapses in her arms like he wasn’t six foot and two-hundred-something pounds, but as if he was the ill five-foot-four boy she last saw him as. 

“Oh, my boy,” she says, rustling her hands through the strands like when he was younger and bed-ridden. 

He stays in her arms with his eyes shut and his arms tight around her as they fall on their knees. Mumbled Irish words of comfort are whispered into his hair as he simply takes in her warmth and her presence.

With a pang, he remembers how he’s forgotten the way she smiled or the exact shade of her mirroring blues and the way she always told him to stand up for himself; he’s forgotten the way her dimples dipped or how the faint wrinkles near her eyes creased every time she laughed. He’s forgotten the heaviness of her Irish lilt and the way she held him when he was sick or sad. He’s forgotten how  _ long _ he’s been without her by his side, guiding him and loving him the way a mother only could. 

He pulls back with teary eyes and looks over Sarah Rogers with a clinging desperation. 

He traces the lines of her face and the sharpness of the slope of her nose, the strength of her jaw that he sees in his own. He drinks in the way her stormy blues watch him in love and wistfulness and the pain of it all hits him. 

“Ma,” he breathes out, nearly pleading but for what, he doesn’t know. 

She runs her hand from his forehead down to cup his cheek and holds it there, Steve leaning his head into her touch, closing his eyes as if to memorize it once again. 

“Oh, Steven, what have you done?” she says, so quietly it’s almost inaudible but it’s a testament to how lost she is. 

Steve shakes his head and squeezes the wrist of the hand holding his cheek. “Too much, Ma. I— I’ve done too much.”

“That’s uncharacteristically optimistic of you, dear,” she chuckles, “I know what’s happened.”

Steve shoots up, losing his grief for a moment. “You do?”

“Didn’t I tell you I would always be watching over you?” Sarah raises a brow and Steve recognizes it as his own quirks.

“Well, I— uhm— It’s been a while since I’ve believed in my faith.” Steve rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

Sarah tuts. “This isn’t a matter of faith, Steven. I mean, I don’t think God gave you these muscles.” Steve laughs quietly when she pokes at his bicep. “But where I am now— it’s peaceful, but I can’t exactly describe it. What I  _ mean _ is that whatever you do, wherever you go, I’m always with you.” She settles her hand over his heart. “As cliche as it is, I’m right here.”

Steve laughs wetly, the moisture in his eyes falling freely now as he chokes on his words. “I just keep losing people, Ma.” 

Sarah takes her hand off Steve’s chest and he almost wants to chase the warmth. She’s frowning deeply at him, sorrow painting her features.

“Lost Da, lost you, lost Bucky for god knows how long, the Commandos, Peggy—”

He can’t even bring himself to say Tony’s name, but with the gaze his mother is giving him, he can tell she already knows.

“Steven, those we lost, we never really lose,” she sighs as she takes his hand in hers, “death is not the last stop, believe me. You have their memories, is that not enough?”

Steve shakes his head hysterically. He looks up at his mother with red, puffy eyes.

He just can’t get the taste of ash off his tongue or the sight of unmoving armor out of his head.

“No,” he whispers, “not with— not with him.”

Sarah looks contemplative, keeping Steve’s hands in her own still. He bows his head as he cries openly yet quietly in anguish and regret at missed chances and unspoken words.

“Was he— was he special to you?” 

Steve sniffs, nodding. “I think I loved him.” He gulps in a heavy breath and says quietly, “And I never knew.”

She sends him a pitiful look, caressing his tears away with a gentle hand. “Oh, Steve. Steve, Steve, Steve—”

“We always clashed and he was taken and there were just so many things standing between us—”

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t love him,” she reassures.

“He had Pepper—”

“You can love more than one and once, dear.” 

Silence follows her words as her hands continue their journey on his cheeks, wiping away his tears.

“Oh, my darling boy. You often give too much of yourself and you never stop,” she tells him in a soft voice, “that’s just who you are. I raised you to be the best man you could ever be and you’ve made me proud. Your mind is strong and our heart loves too much and after what you’ve been through— you deserve to rest, my son.”

Steve sighs, sitting straight as he gestures loosely at the black briefcase next to him. “I’m not done, Ma.”

She crosses her arms and her eyes are kind but challenging. “You have a mission?”

Steve scratches his head and looks down and away from her questioning gaze. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Before I can go back.”

Sarah Rogers keeps to her silence before she shuffles her son into another hug, before pulling apart and cradling his head between her hands as she kisses his forehead. 

“You  _ have _ a mission,” she whispers into his skin, her own tears falling. She pulls away and looks her only son in the eye feeling herself fade, knowing this is goodbye.

_ “Go back to him.” _

∞

**TIME**

The 50’s is a weird era.

He remembers the books Tony and Sam had lent him to catch him up on history while he was in the ice so realizes he’s landed smack-dab in the middle of the post-war baby boom.

The street he’s on is teeming with life as it seems all the kids on the block have decided to come out today to play. They’re running around chasing each other on the sidewalks and in the streets themselves, using the cars parked on the curb as obstacles for hide and seek.

It’s all very domestic.

No one seems to have noticed Steve just standing at the corner of the intersection, his quantum suit nano-transforming itself into clothes that would make him fit in and in this case, it’s a pair of breezy gray slacks and an itchy tan button-up tucked in. It’s not as strikingly different as the clothes he wore in the 21st century and he misses the casualty and comfort of a normal cotton henley and loose but fitting denim jeans, but he stands his ground and makes his way to the quaint two-story with a fitting picket fence to match that’s third in the row of butter-colored houses on the block.

No one watches him as he strides up to the creaky little gate that leads right up to the open front door.

He knocks, twisting his foot into the welcome mat he’s standing on as he listens to the soft footfalls that get louder as it nears the door. There’s a click of a lock before the wooden door is whipped open and wide amber eyes stare into his blue ones. 

“Steve?” Peggy whispers.

Steve nods, lips lifting into a smile. “Hey, Pegs.”

She blinks at him a few more times before she looks out the door and side to side before her hand wrings itself in the collar of his shirt and he’s tugged inside with a barely concealed yelp.

She drags him over to her couch, turning the record player off on the way, and sits right next to him, turned to him, with a strict gaze.

“Explain,” she orders curtly, her voice trembling.

Steve breathes in and talks.

She doesn’t interrupt him once as he explains the time travel, and waking up in the future, and the Avengers. His voice shakes when he talks about Thanos, how he didn’t believe Tony when he said that the aliens weren’t done with Earth yet. Peggy takes hold of his trembling hands when he tells her about Tony sacrificing himself and the stones and why he’s there sitting with her now.

Peggy, ever the well put-together woman, purses her lips as she takes in his words, face as neutral as ever.

“You’re not my Steve,” is her conclusion. His laughter comes in the form of an amused puff of air out his nose.

“I mean, yeah, technically,” Steve says, but it’s more of a question. “This is still the same timeline, but I can’t be seen or else I’d be creating a new reality. I’m already causing some waves in the space-time continuum the longer I’m here really.”

Peggy nods in understanding before her gaze softens, eyes watering in unshed tears.

“So you’re not dead?” 

He shakes his head. “Just comatose.”

She nods again before she asks, “Why are you here, Steve?”

Steve opens his mouth but finds that he can’t really find the words. He wants to say “I came back for you” and “I love you”, but he can’t find it in him to mean them, so instead he says, 

“I owed you a dance.”

Peggy laughs, her eyes squeezing close and hand flying to her mouth, and Steve grins. She’s still smiling when she looks back at him.

“You’re a decade late for that, my dear.”

Steve lifts a shoulder in a shrug.

“Better late than never.”

Peggy hums in response. She stands up from her spot next to Steve dusting her skirt and goes back to put the needle back on the record, the soft music playing loudly through the living room. She offers him a hand and he lets himself be pulled up and into an embrace, with his arms around her waist and her hands at his shoulders.

Not exactly dancing but it’s good enough for him as they sway in the small little bubble they’ve created.

Steve had thought that going back to Peggy and asking her for this dance, the dance he never got to have, would be cathartic or even be an epiphany, but he feels nothing. Satisfied is the closest word he can think of to describe it. 

It was closure he needed, is what he concludes— a closing to that part of his life that he’s left so long ago.

“What did you wish for when you came here, Steve?” comes Peggy’s small voice. Nothing accusing, but simply curious.

Steve heaves out a breath and leans his chin on her head. 

“At first, I thought I’d come here. To you.” Peggy sucks in a sharp breath at that. “I thought that I’d come here and pick up where we left off, y’know. Get that dance, settle down after the war.” He looks up and focuses his eyes on the laughing children outside the window. “Now I’m not so sure.”

A silence passes between them as the music drones on. 

“You can’t stay,” Peggy finally whispers and that last string of tension in Steve’s body unravels. 

“I know.”

Another beat of silence.

“I just— I don’t know where else to go.”

Peggy steps away from his hold, and his face contorts in confusion for a second, before she’s grabbing his cheeks in her hands and tilting his face down so they’re eye to eye.

“Yes, you do. To me, you’ve been gone a decade and—” she inhales wetly, “—it hurts,  _ of course _ it does, because contrary to belief, I  _ did _ love you, Steve.” She smiles, but it’s full of grief. “But it’s been years. I had to move on. And you… To you, I’ve been gone for longer. Your  _ past _ has been gone for longer.”

Steve nods, bringing a hand up to hold one of the hands gently caressing his cheeks.

“There’s nothing left for you, Steve; not here, not anymore. The world has changed, and so have you. So have I. Your future is your home. From what you’ve told me, it’s been for a while now.”

She steps closer, presses a kiss to his lips that’s so soft it was almost just like air brushing against them, and lets him go with teary eyes.

“You’re asking for more time, my love, but you will not find it here.”

The song ends just then and the only sound echoing about besides their sniffling is the signs of life happening outside the door.

“Thank you,” Steve chokes out, hands ready and twitching to reach at his watch.

Peggy simply brings him in for one last embrace and Steve holds her tight, his own way of saying goodbye. 

With a kiss on his wet cheek, she whispers in his ear, “Be good to him” and he only has a fraction of a second of surprise to express before they part and he’s gone again.

∞

**SOUL**

_ A soul, returned for a soul. _

He ends up in a world where Project Insight was eliminated, but took him along with it.

This world’s Sam and Natasha managed to come out unscathed, and Bucky as well fortunately, but the heavy weight of the metal remains of the helicarriers deemed too impossible to fish even a super soldier out from under it.

There’s no ceremony, no funeral, no passing of the flag, because Steve immediately fills the hole his counterpart had left behind. 

“You’re different,” is the first thing Sam says when he and Natasha manage to find him near the river bank, right where he had washed up the first time and where his alternate self should have also.

Steve raises an eyebrow in response.

“Good different or bad different?”

“ _ Weird _ different. Your hair grew, like, a few inches since the last time I saw you and I’m pretty sure that was only like 20 minutes ago.”

“And you lost Barnes,” Natasha interjects and her voice makes Steves heart twist. He looks at her, hair shorter and straighter and more orange than he last saw her, and he feels  _ right _ .

He mourned for her— they all did— and it still aches, remembering how she sacrificed herself to save everyone  _ (maybe that was why her and Tony were such good friends) _ . She was the first to love them, and the first to leave them.

_ I used to have nothing, but then I got this— this job… this family. I was better because of it. _

_ And we lost you _ , Steve wants to say, but he shakes his head and looks away from her instead, chuckling softly.

“If anything, he lost me.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him. “You didn’t swim out of the river, did you? ‘Cos if you did, I’d have to ask why the hell you’re not even soaking with gross D.C. water.”

Steve rolls his eyes and hefts his shield onto his back and god, how he’s missed that familiar weight. 

They make their way out of the trees and back into civilization where first responders and police are gathered around at what was once SHIELD. Damage control is nearby as well, running in circles trying to figure out the best approach to get the helicarriers out of the Pontiac. 

“Well, what now?” Sam asks as they march their way through the throngs of people screaming.

Steve looks around and takes in the chaos. He watches as things warp and change as he knows it, takes in this world he’s about to call his own, and remembers a specific brunet with a snarky smile and shining eyes as he spectates on the bustling and hustling of both civilians and agents around him.

“We have to go to New York. There’s someone we need to talk to.”

Steve’s heart beats against his chest the whole elevator ride up. The prospect of seeing Tony again, alive and whole and way younger than Steve’s seen him last, has him panicking. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, what he’ll do when he’s finally face to face with the man.

Tell him about his parents? Ask for help? Tell him he’s sorry?

Everything that comes to mind is inconclusive but Steve doesn’t have the time to ponder about it because before he knows it, the metal doors are sliding open to reveal the billionaire himself sporting a surprised expression when his brown eyes rake over all three of them.

It hurts Steve more than he likes to admit— seeing Tony again like this.

“Steve? Nat? What’re you doing here?” Tony asks, straightening back up from where he was crouched over a cardboard box.

Natasha all but shoves Steve out of the elevator, Sam following languidly as he takes in the interior. Steve doesn’t feel like he’s moving as he keeps his gaze on Tony— breathing and  _ alive—  _ but it seems that his body moves on its own accord.

“Regroup I guess, though I don’t really know. This was Steve’s idea,” Nat points out, throwing her thumb back towards Steve.

Brown eyes widen to look at him then and Steve freezes under the surprised scrutiny. 

“ _ Cap’s _ idea?” 

Steve’s lips quirk shyly. 

“I- uh- I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t plan this far ahead,” the blond admits.

“What the  _ hell _ do you  _ mean _ you didn’t plan this far ahead?” Sam asks, his voice rising an octave in mild panic.

Tony shakes his head. “Wait- and who’s this?”

“Tony, Sam, Sam, Tony.” Steve nods his head towards his new— well, old— friend and said friend half-heartedly raises his hand in a wave towards the billionaire. “And in my defense, I didn’t think we’d even make it past the private elevator.”

“I coded your bio-signatures into the system after we arrested Loki.” Tony blinks and Steve catches the way his eyes flit over their messy appearances. “Did I miss something?”

Steve looks down at his own dirty and torn uniform. “Do you mind if we—”

“Wha— OH, yeah yeah you can clean up first. Your, um, floors are done. JARVIS’ll lead you to ‘em,” the billionaire trails off, almost bashful. “Except you, Sam. If you plan on stickin’ ‘round, ‘m might need a few days.”

Sam waves his hand. “No rush, man. Steve, you okay with me using your floor?”

Steve nods, still keeping his eyes on Tony. “Yeah, go ahead.”

He stays behind while the other two leave, watching as Tony hustles around the room.

Steve notices how empty it is, but also catches onto the familiarity of it. He’s standing in what was once— or what will be— the communal floor. He traces the architecture of its loft structure and follows his eyes to the floor-to-ceiling windows that he grew to love watching the New York nightline out of. He sucks in a breath and the exhale is shaky at best, his lungs clenching in nostalgia and treading the lines of wistfulness. 

It hasn’t been long since he started this journey to return the stones, Steve knows, but standing here in this building where he learned to embrace the future as his present before it all went wrong _ (though he realizes the cracks in the foundation started to form before even then)  _ leaves an ache in his chest too vivid to ignore.

It’s staring at a ghost as it moves and breathes right in front of his eyes and standing on a graveyard too ancient for him to feel. It’s his memories playing like a movie in his head, memories of dust and ash and a mission before a battle that continues to take and take and take from him.

It’s the calm before another hurricane, but he’s already foreseen the forecast and damned if he ever lets it happen again.

“You okay, Cap?”

Steve shakes his head and focuses back to Tony, who has his eyebrows raised in amusement but Steve’s spent enough time with the billionaire to notice the concern in his irises.

“Yeah, I was just, uh, thinking.”

“Was starting to think you saw a ghost there,” Tony teases, smirk just shy of being on the defensive side, which Steve understands must be because Tony was afraid he’d take the joke wrong. 

Steve chuckles, but his nerves act up.

He’s alone with Tony now, and he has his attention, so the thought of telling Tony about Bucky bounces around in his head.

_ Now or never, Rogers, before it’s too late. _

“Can I,” Steve clears his throat, “talk to you?”

Tony blinks, his face dangerously neutral. “Aren’t we already, Cap?”

“It’s—” Steve shakes his head. “Can we go somewhere?”

The look the genius sends him in the beat of silence that bounces between them is scrutinizing and Steve can’t help but squirm.

“Yeah, sure,” Tony finally answers once he’s found what he was looking for, “Let’s head out to the balcony.”

Tony turns away first as Steve watches him walk outside into the cool summer air. Steve’s ears ring as he follows, step by slow step, until he’s in the warmth of the sunshine, staring at the flecks of gold and bright,  _ bright _ almost-ethereal orange that shine through Tony’s brown strands from the sunset behind him.

The man in question turns around and faces Steve, waiting.

“You know, if you’re gonna just stand there and look like a tree—”

“I need to tell you about your parents,” Steve blurts out before he can swallow the words back down.

Tony freezes, his eyes wary and tension strung throughout his body.

“Wha— My  _ parents _ ?”

Steve steps forward, body trembling in fear of god knows what, and the timeline branches off. 

-

“I found Bucky.”

The pencil in Steve’s hand goes flying off the page as he whips around the couch to face Tony, who’s staring at his screens in disbelief.

“ _ What _ ?”

“He’s in—” Tony swallows, “—He’s in Romania right now, laying low.”

Steve mulls over it, blinking at Tony. 

Tony who had spent a day stewing in his anger before marching down to Steve’s floor and yanking the folder about the Winter Soldier right out of his hands before heading down to his workshop only to emerge 2 days later with the announcement that he’s built Bucky a new arm (with upgrades); Tony who had spent every waking moment with Steve ever since he arrived at the tower six months ago; Tony who had welcomed him and Nat and Sam and Clint and Bruce and Thor into his home, expecting nothing but they gave him their friendship anyway; Tony who Steve loved and loves and will always love.

“Show me,” he says, standing up from the couch and walking over to the genius.

Tony tilts the screen sideways so Steve can see it and it’s grainy security camera footage but he knows it’s Bucky, tucking himself in into his own body as to not set anyone off as he purchases groceries. 

Steve wants to go after him, like he did before, but there’s no sudden urge now. 

“Okay, that’s good,” Steve says and Tony lets out a noise of confusion, “Keep tabs on him.”

“Wait— What? You’re not gonna go after him?” Tony asks incredulously.

Steve shrugs. “I don’t think he wants to be found.”

Tony blinks. “So… you’re just gonna let him go?”

“It’s his choice. I’m giving him the dignity of that.”

Tony stares at him before he smiles widely, a small blush painting his cheeks, his eyes shining. “You’re cheesy.”

Steve smiles back just as wide. “Have to be to repel your bitterness.”

The brunet sputters at that and Steve laughs loudly and unabashedly for the first time in a long,  _ long _ while.

-

Steve kisses Tony on a sunny day in October.

It’s sudden, and unexpected considering both of them were covered in flour after a disastrous attempt at making cupcakes, but it was perfect. 

It was slow and heavy but it was enough to get the message across.

Two and a half years Steve waited. Two and a half years of living with his best friends and fighting bad guys and just  _ living _ in the 21st century. There were arguments and injuries and nightmares that he can’t tell the others about (not yet anyway), but it’s more than Steve could ever wish he wanted.

They’re making out on the couch in Tony’s penthouse— Steve lying across Tony and their legs tangled together, both of them hard and rutting against each other breathless— when JARVIS interrupts them.

“Sirs, I do believe we have a situation.”

“If no one’s dying, ignore it,” Tony says before Steve dives back into kissing him.

“There is a James Buchanan Barnes standing in the lobby waiting for access to the private elevator.”

Steve lifts his head up in shock and Tony groans, thumping the back of his head against the arm of the couch.

“Your best friend is a cockblock.”

Steve chuckles lowly, swinging his leg up and over Tony so he’s standing in front of the couch. He presses another kiss to Tony’s lips before he straightens up.

“You two will get along right away.”

Tony mumbles under his breath before he gets up and follows Steve, but not without taking a hold of his hand and Steve beams.

“Ugh, let’s go then. The faster we assimilate popsicle numero dos into the brady bunch, the sooner we can get back to smoochin’.”

-

As Steve suspects, Tony and Bucky get along like a house on fire.

It takes a while for Bucky to find his footing in this dysfunctional house of supers but his dry humor and snark wins him a ticket of friendship with everybody else.

Tony helps him disconnect with the programming and gifts him with the arm and the others rope him into their movie nights and game days and outings, and eventually, when Bucky gets better mentally, missions.

Steve enjoys this life he’s settled into with his best friend from his old life and boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance (the vibranium ring is sitting underneath his drawer of ugly Christmas sweaters, he’s hoping Tony doesn’t find it yet) and his best friends from this era. He considers them family and though there’s still a small ache whenever he thinks of the timeline he more or less abandoned, he doesn’t regret anything.

That is, until Bucky goes looking for a spare sweater to borrow from Steve because he hasn’t done laundry in weeks and decides to spill the beans about Steve’s intention to propose at dinner.

At least Tony said yes, as he plucked out a spaghetti noodle from his hair as a result of the ensuing food fight.

-

Steve tells Tony the truth about who he is and  _ when _ he came from the night before their wedding in the spring.

Tony blinked, and stayed silent, but all he responded with was, “Wow, that’s a different type of clingy” before Steve kissed the laughter out of him.

The next morning, they got married in an outdoor garden under a white pergola with cherry blossoms and roses and hydrangeas surrounding them.

Steve’s ring was made from the melted down parts of Tony’s first reactor, and Tony’s ring was made from shavings of Steve’s shield.

-

In this world, the Avengers manage to find the infinity stones before Thanos does. With a little help, they will the stones to hide themselves away from their plane of existence.

There are no deaths, no sacrifices, and no more large universal threats. Aside from a few bruises and cracked ribs, everyone goes home safely.

That night, Tony brings up adoption.

-

“Anaka, sweetheart, you have to go to school.”

“Papa, noooooooooooo.”

Tony attempts to wrangle the five year old into putting on her shoes, the ever-present pout that she  _ definitely _ learned from Steve adorning her beautiful dark-skinned features, the latter grinning in amusement from his position in the kitchen where he was currently feeding their two year old, Juli, while their three year old, Sarah, was content in feeding herself cheerios in her own high chair. 

“Tell you what— you go to school and I’ll let you watch me, Pete, and Harley work in the lab this weekend. Deal?”

“Deal!”

She scrambles to put her tiny shoes on and Tony rolls his eyes when Steve laughs.

“Stop encouraging her,” Tony says, walking over to his husband to swipe the thermos of coffee he’s holding out and leaning down to press a kiss against Juli’s soft tufts of black hair and another kiss on Sarah’s.

“I’m really not. You just coddle her,” Steve replies before catching Tony’s lips in a kiss.

“I do not—”

“PAPA!”

Steve bursts into laughter again when Tony sighs. “Coming, sweetpea!”

The brunet turns back to the super soldier, fondness in his eyes before he leans in for another kiss. 

“Love you.”

“Love you, too. Now, please go bring our daughter to school before she decides to walk her little five year old self there.”

-

“Hey, did you know Nat and Sharon were dating?”

Steve looks up from the pile of clothes he’s folding from his spot on the rugged floor to Tony walking into the living room, eyes on his phone.

“Really? Since when?”

“Couple months ago, apparently.”

Steve hums in response and returns to his previous task just as Tony collapses himself onto Steve so he’s lying pliant with his chest against the super soldier’s back.

“Anyways, let’s move.”

Steve looks up from the t-shirt he was folding to turn his neck towards his husband, who had slid off his back and was now lying on the rug, phone above his face.

“You love the tower,” Steve simply says, a bit of confusion in his voice.

Tony sighs. “I do, but Theo’s starting high school and I know he wants to do football, Dec wants to do lacrosse, and Ana’s starting first grade soon and I dunno, I just think we need more space for our family.”

Steve smiles fondly at his husband, even when Tony points an accusing finger at him. “And I  _ know _ you and kids have been conspiring against me for a dog.”

“It’s a good lesson in responsibility, Tony,” Steve states matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Tony waves his hand. “I just think we need more space. And it’d be good for the kids, y’know? Open space, no city smog, cliche public high school experience…”

“What? No boarding school?” Steve teases, laughing when Tony’s face contorts in a grimace.

“Oh, god no! That’d fuck them up and plus, I think public school would do good in keeping them humble.”

“Says you.” Steve laughs louder when Tony protests and slaps his arm with one of the non-folded shirts in the hamper next to him. “Admit it, Tony. You just want to keep them close.”

Tony sniffs. “And your point?”

Steve looks at Tony adoringly and lets the silence wash over them comfortably. He shifts on his knees so his face is over the brunet’s and kisses him softly. The smile he gives the genius is nothing short of tender.

“Okay.”

The smile he gets back is just as warm.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

-

A few months later, they move into a quaint two-story house in the Hamptons that leads right to the beach, just in time for school to start, and the Stark-Rogers family adopt a dog with a ridiculously fluffy tail and name it Dodger.

-

Steve and Tony officially retire just as Matteo’s starting college.

Sam, who’s been carrying the shield for a while now anyways, keeps the Captain America title for a few more years before handing off the mantle to a kid named James, who suggests that the shield should be a tangible hologram with the same abilities as the actual vibranium one.

Needless to say, by the next day, Tony had driven to the compound himself and presented James with exactly that, so the vibranium shield stayed with Steve.

Tony hung it above the fireplace.

Tony, on the other hand, passed the Iron Man mantle off to Riri, who created her own suit. 

With the other Avengers following suit with their own announcements of retirement, Steve knows the young group of heroes he and the others have been training for years are ready to do this on their own. 

At the start of all this, Steve had thought that all he wanted to do was fight, that he couldn’t settle without knowing everything was going to be okay, but he had a family now, and he’s worked with the younger recruits more than a handful of times to know their capabilities in the field. 

He trusts them, and Steve finally trusts himself to stop waiting for the next shoe to drop— a luxury he never had before.

He’s settled into domestic life and watched as the universe calmed down around them now that the infinity stones were no longer an issue. War was scarce in this world he and the other fought to defend and there was nothing else for him to do. He could  _ rest _ now.

And even if they  _ are _ needed that badly, well, the Hamptons were only a short quinjet ride away from the compound.

-

There are PTA meetings, and bake sales, and barbecues.

There are game nights, and movie nights, and beach days in the summer.

There is always homework strewn about the dinner table and the breakfast nook, and wayward shoes to trip on.

Field trips and road trips and family vacations.

And there are always—  _ always—  _ warm hugs and reassuring words, giggles and harmless pranks, copious amounts of blankets and kisses goodnight.

Steve’s life here is full of noise, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.

-

“I have to give this to Sam.”

“Babe, he’s retired, too.”

“Tony—”

“Oh!  _ That _ Sam.”

“I think it’s time I went back and visited.”

“You’re not gonna stay there, are you? Jules’ graduation is next week.”

“Well, no shit, Tony. Why would I miss our daughter’s high school graduation?”

“Okay, yeah, no, just ignore my brain.”

“Tony, I’m just going to give this to him. He’s gonna need it now that I’m here.”

“Sometimes I keep forgetting you’re from another timeline.”

“Disappointed?”

“Oh, baby, not. At. All.”

“Okay, okay— stop distracting me. I gotta do this now before I completely get too lazy to do it.”

“Don’t you want a good luck bl—”

“Tony!”

“Married for 20 years and still acting like a prude.”

“Love, the kids are in the next room.”

“Theo literally has a kid, Steve. Steve, we have a grandkid. I’m pretty sure they know what sex is.”

“Oh jesus— okay, I’m just gonna go before I get distracted again.”

“By me, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“You’re coming back, right after?”

“I’ll always come back to you.”

-

“So… You gonna tell me about her?”

Steve smirks, looking out at the lake. He knows what Sam’s asking, knows what Sam thinks he knows. 

But this was a secret he doesn’t quite want to share.

“No… I don’t think I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked that! took me a while to finish but hey i did it that's the important part. pls leave a kudos and/or a comment to let me know what you think!
> 
> for extra clarification:
> 
> reality stone- the reality of steve's situation  
> power stone- his superpower abilities bc of the serum (bc ykno.. power)  
> space stone- mcu steve talking to former hydra cap (setting from the oath but not within secret empire timeline)  
> mind stone- his own mind but he's talking to his mom to clear up what he actually wants  
> time stone- peggy (pretty self-explanatory)  
> soul stone- getting tony back (and a happy ending!)
> 
> also to clear up some points on this alt timeline that i couldn't fit in but couldn't bother putting years to because it's a jumbled mess:  
> 1\. alt!steve dies, og!steve takes his place and falls in love with tony post ca:tws (tony and pepper arent together)  
> 2\. bucky goes to them when he feels better about the whole winter soldier thing and the avengers help him heal and then joins the team   
> 3\. they DO go to sokovia, retrieve the scepter, BUT manage to intercept wanda and pietro before they cause Shit so no ultron, no jarvis, but they manage to move the twins to their side (bucky is a good reason as to why they did)  
> 4\. the accords are a thing but not like in ca:cw. no stevetony divorce and steve still thinks it's unnecessary but he's learned his lesson from the og!timeline and they need to stick together so they compromise, make amendments, yada yada law stuff, and it passes to their standards. this is also around the time steve and tony get married and steve tells tony the truth about who he is and about the stones  
> 5\. they call up the guardians and dr. strange for help with the stones and recruit wanda into helping them disappear. this takes about a year and a half to retrieve all the stones and right after, steve and tony start the adoption process  
> 6\. steve and tony adopt 5 kids at different ages from different places: anaka (ana) is adopted first from NYC at 1, declan (dec) is adopted from colombia a few months after at 7, juli (jules) is adopted from singapore at birth 2 years later, matteo (theo) is adopted from sokovia a year later at 13, and lastly, sarah is also adopted from colombia a year later at 3  
> 7\. when steve goes back to the og timeline, he's still fairly young and definitely not joe biden looking so
> 
> p.s: also i know james is technically steve and nat's kid from next avengers but not in this fic he's not


End file.
